The passage between the bergs now became quite straight, reasonably broad, and was so situated as regarded the gale, as to receive a full current of its force. It was computed that the schooners ran quite three marine leagues in the hour that succeeded the overturning of the berg There were moments when the wind blew furiously; and, taking all the accessories of that remarkable view into the account, the scene resembled one that the imagination might present to the mind in its highest flights, but which few could ever hope to see with their proper eyes. The moon-light, the crowd of ice-bergs of all shapes and dimensions, seeming to flit past by the rapid movements of the vessels; the variety of hues, from spectral white to tints of orange and emerald, pale at that hour yet distinct; streets and lanes that were scarce opened ere they were passed; together with all the fantastic images that such objects conjured to the thoughts; contributed to make that hour much the most wonderful that Roswell Gardiner had ever passed. To add to the excitement, a couple of whales came blowing up the passage, coming within a hundred yards of the schooners. They were fin-backs, which are rarely if ever taken, and were suffered to pass unharmed. To capture a whale, however, amid so many bergs, would be next to impossible, unless the animal were killed by the blow of the harpoon, without requiring the keener thrust of the lance.
At the end of the hour mentioned, the Sea Lion of the Vineyard rapidly changed her course, hauling up by a sudden movement to the westward. The passage before her was closed, and there remained but one visible outlet, towards which the schooner slowly made her way, having got rather too much to leeward of it, in consequence of not earlier seeing the necessity for the change of course in that dim and deceptive light. Roswell, being to windward, had less difficulty, but, notwithstanding, he kept his station on his consort's quarter, declining to lead. The passage into which Daggett barely succeeded in carrying his schooner was fearfully narrow, and appeared to be fast closing; though it was much wider further ahead, could the schooners but get through the first dangerous strait. Roswell remonstrated ere the leading vessel entered, and pointed out to Daggett the fact that the bergs were evidently closing, each instant increasing their movement, most probably through the force of attraction. It is known that ships are thus brought in contact in calms, and it is thought a similar influence is exercised on the ice-bergs. At all events, the wind, the current, or attraction, was fast closing the passage through which the schooners had now to go.
Scarcely was Daggett within the channel, when an enormous mass fell from the summit of one of the bergs, literally closing the passage in his wake, while it compelled Gardiner to put his helm down, and to tack ship, standing off from the tottering berg. The scene that followed was frightful! The cries on board the leading craft denoted her peril, but it was not possible for Roswell to penetrate to her with his vessel. All he could do was to heave-to his own schooner, lower a boat, and pull back towards the point of danger. This he did at once, manfully, but with an anxious mind and throbbing heart. He actually urged his boat into the chasm beneath an arch in the fallen fragment, and made his way to the very side of Daggett's vessel. The last was nipped again, and that badly, but was not absolutely lost. The falling fragment from the berg alone prevented her and all in her from being ground into powder. This block, of enormous size, kept the two bergs asunder; and now that they could not absolutely come together, they began slowly to turn in the current, gradually opening and separating, at the very point where they had so lately seemed attracted to a closer union. In an hour the way was clear, and the boats towed the schooner stern foremost into the broader passage.
Chapter XX.
"A voice upon the prairies,
A cry of woman's woe,
That mingleth with the autumn blast
All fitfully and low."Mrs. Sigourney.
The accident to the Sea Lion of the Vineyard occurred very near the close of the month of March, which, in the southern hemisphere, corresponds to our month of September. This was somewhat late for a vessel to remain in so high a latitude, though it was not absolutely dangerous to be found there several weeks longer. We have given a glance at Mary Pratt and her uncle, about this time; but it has now become expedient to carry the reader forward for a considerable period, and take another look at our heroine and her miserly uncle, some seven months later. In that interval a great change had come over the deacon and his niece; and hope had nearly deserted all those who had friends on board the Sea Lion of Oyster Pond, as the following explanation will show was reasonable, and to be expected.
When Captain Gardiner sailed, it was understood that his absence would not extend beyond a single season. All who had friends and connections on board his schooner, had been assured of this; and great was the anxiety, and deep the disappointment, when the first of our own summer months failed to bring back the adventurers. As week succeeded week, and the vessel did not return, the concern increased, until hope began to be lost in apprehension. Deacon Pratt groaned in spirit over his loss, finding little consolation in the gains secured by means of the oil sent home, as is apt to be the case with the avaricious, when their hearts are once set on gain. As for Mary, the load on her heart increased in weight, as it might be, day by day, until those smiles, which had caused her sweet countenance to be radiant with innocent joy, entirely disappeared, and she was seen to smile no more. Still, complaints never passed her lips. She prayed much, and found all her relief in such pursuits as comported with her feelings, but she seldom spoke of her grief; never, except at weak moments, when her querulous kinsman introduced the subject, in his frequent lamentations over his losses.
The month of November is apt to be stormy on the Atlantic coasts of the republic. It is true that the heaviest gales do not then occur, but the weather is generally stern and wintry, and the winds are apt to be high and boisterous. At a place like Oyster Pond, the gales from the ocean are felt with almost as much power as on board a vessel at sea; and Mary became keenly sensible of the change from the bland breezes of summer to the sterner blasts of autumn. As for the deacon, his health was actually giving way before anxiety, until the result was getting to be a matter of doubt. Premature old age appeared to have settled on him, and his niece had privately consulted Dr. Sage on his case. The excellent girl was grieved to find that the mind of her uncle grew more worldly, his desires for wealth more grasping, as he was losing his hold on life, and was approaching nearer to that hour when time is succeeded by eternity. All this while, however, Deacon Pratt "kept about," as he expressed it himself, and struggled to look after his interests, as had been his practice through life. He collected his debts, foreclosed his mortgages when necessary, drove tight bargains for his wood and other saleable articles, and neglected nothing that he thought would tend to increase his gains. Still, his heart was with his schooner; for he had expected much from that adventure, and the disappointment was in proportion to the former hopes.
One day, near the close of November, the deacon and his niece were alone together in the "keeping-room,"--as it was, if it be not still, the custom among persons of New England origin to call the ordinary sitting-apartment,--he bolstered up in an easy-chair, on account of increasing infirmities, and she plying the needle in her customary way. The chairs of both were so placed that it was easy for either to look out upon that bay, now of a wintry aspect, where Roswell had last anchored, previously to sailing.
"What a pleasant sight it would be, uncle," Mary, almost unconsciously to herself, remarked, as, with tearful eyes, she sat gazing intently on the water, "could we only awake and find the Sea Lion at anchor, under the point of Gardiner's Island! I often fancy that such may be--nay, must be the case yet; but it never comes to pass! I would not tell you yesterday, for you did not seem to be as well as common, but I have got an answer, by Baiting Joe, to my letter sent across to the Vineyard."